"Living still, is he?"
"If you call it living--up to his ears in debt."
"In debt, you say?"
"Always has been, always will be. As for the other one--Olaf, Eric--what was his name, now?"
"Was it Oscar?" said Christian Christiansson, with a catch in his throat.
"Oscar it was--what a memory you must have, sir! Oscar Stephenson! He used to think he could do a little in your line, sir, but he was here to-day and there to-morrow, and he never did anything in his life except put an end to it. You would hear what happened--it all came out in the newspapers."
"Died abroad, didn't he?"
"Shot himself in a gambling hell, sir."
"The young rascal!" said the captain, taking his pipe out of his mouth to laugh. "I took it out of him though. The last time he crossed from Iceland I made him sleep in the hold."
"Serve him right, the scoundrel," said the merchant.